by Rachel Hanna
She’d said this same thing over and over again for the last three years. Every class was different, filled with people who had come to her retreat to learn how to de-stress and relax. Type A business people, mothers who’d lost children, service members with PTSD... They’d all flocked there at first, her reputation for helping to heal their anxiety and depression spreading like wildfire around the area and beyond.
But she’d known from the outset that buying this place and sinking every dime she had into it was risky. And now, she had no idea how to soothe her own anxious thoughts. It was never a good thing to open the mail and see pink papers in every envelope. She could hear time ticking away inside her head every single day, and there didn’t seem to be a dang thing she could do about it.
The Retreat was about to be no more.
When she’d taken the leap into being an entrepreneur three years ago, she’d had on rose colored glasses, for sure. A lot of her friends had tried to talk her down. They’d told her to take it slow, not take out so many loans, scale down her plans.
But Jill had felt an urge, a calling, to lead people out of the darkness. She’d spent years toiling away as a waitress, saving every dime she made to go toward her dream. No one else was going to help her, after all. She didn’t talk to her family anymore, hadn’t in years. And sometimes she felt like a big fake, standing in front of all these people, proclaiming she had the answers to inner peace. She wasn’t feeling at all peaceful right now.
“Now, sweep your arms over your head and stretch toward the sky, like a flower opening itself to the sun...” she said in her best soothing voice. It was the same script mostly, which made it easy enough to get through even on days when she wasn’t feeling herself. And today was definitely one of those days.
An early morning call from her mortgage holder - which had interrupted her own meditation - had rocked her sense of calm like a lightning bolt. They were foreclosing. She had no more “stays of execution,” so to speak. Pretty soon, she’d be forced to walk up to the edge of the plank and jump off into the deep watery abyss.
Okay, maybe she was being just a bit dramatic. But that’s what it felt like.
She had no plan B. No family to run back to. No boyfriend or husband to hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right.
When she’d bought this place and poured her heart and soul into it, never in her wildest nightmares had there been even a thought in the back of her mind that she’d one day lose it all. But she was dangerously close to that happening.
When her lender had told her an investor was coming to take a look at an adjacent property and they wanted her to let him see The Retreat at the same time, her stomach had churned. The conversation rang in her head even now.
“I don’t understand. I haven’t been foreclosed. This is still my property!”
“That’s technically true, but you’re behind several months now, and we’ve been more than lenient, Miss Russell. I think we both know what the outcome of this is going to be...”
“Mr. Randall, you’ve underestimated me,” she’d said, fully unsure of where she was going with this. “I’m not going to lose my business.”
He cleared his throat. “I hope you’re right. But this gentleman is buying up all the surrounding property for a conference center and resort. Your property stands firmly in the middle of all that, so he needs to see it.”
“You can’t force me to allow this,” she said, feeling fairly certain she was right legally.
He sighed so loud she had to pull the phone from her ear. “Maybe that’s true. But we’ve been very lenient with you,” he repeated. “And that can be revoked at any time.”
She pursed her lips and struggled to keep calm. “Is that a threat?”
“No. It’s just a fact, Miss Russell. If we need to speed up the process of foreclosure, we’re well within our rights to do so. Or, as we’d prefer, you can keep running your business until such time as the other property sells.”
“Or until I save my property.”
He paused. “Right. I suppose that’s another possibility.” She could almost hear laughter breaking through in his voice. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wasn’t someone who cried often. She wiped it away almost violently and hung up the phone.
“How long should we keep holding up our arms?” An older woman asked, her arms shaking above her head.
Jill felt terrible that she’d let her mind wander. “I’m so sorry, Agnes. Bring your arms down, sweeping them to your sides...” she said, bringing her focus back to her class. “Okay, that’s all for this morning’s session. I’ll see you guys back here before dinner!”
She made her way into the small office off the pavilion where she taught her classes and quickly shut the door. Normally, she spent time chatting with her guests after class, but her nerves were so frayed that she didn’t want to give up the appearance of having it all together.
After all, it was part of her persona and had been since she was a kid. Never let them see you sweat. Strength above all else. Until one day when she’d allowed the darkness in her mind to break through.
It was a brief moment in time, but it had almost destroyed her. She didn’t like to think about that day.
Plus, she was pretty sure she would burst into tears at any provocation right now, and that didn’t exactly inspire repeat business to see the owner have a nervous breakdown.
“Hey. Are you okay?”
She turned to see her assistant, Kaylee, standing in the doorway. She was a young woman, college age, who had offered to take a job at The Retreat for practically nothing right after it opened. Kaylee wanted to own a yoga practice one day and considered The Retreat to be the best place to get training for her own dreams.
“I’m fine. Just a little tired today.”
Kaylee looked at her carefully, her big brown eyes staring through Jill. “You seem more than tired.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Jill said, walking forward and rubbing her arm. “Why are you still here anyway?”
Kaylee swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”
Jill nodded her head and smiled sadly. “You’re leaving me, aren’t you?”
Kaylee’s big eyes were now filled with tears, her thick, dark lashes doing their best to stop the stream of droplets that started to fall. Jill brushed one away with her thumb. She didn’t have children of her own, as much as she wanted them, so Kaylee was the next best thing.
“I’m so sorry. It’s just, I got my apartment and I’m barely making rent...”
“Because I haven’t been able to pay you on time lately,” Jill said quietly. The shame in her body was almost overwhelming. Her failures were now seeping into this poor girl’s life.
“It’s not your fault...” Kaylee said between sobs. “I love it here, but I just can’t...”
Jill put her hands on Kaylee’s shoulders and smiled. “I totally understand, sweetie. And it’s time for you to move on and start your life. You’re so talented! And you’re always welcome here.”
Would there even be a “here” in a few weeks or months?
After calming Kaylee down and saying her goodbyes, Jill sat down at her small, second hand desk and stared out the window at the forest surrounding her. She felt as alone as she ever had in her life. This place held a part of her soul. How would she ever give it up?
Patrick parked his rental, a sexy little sports car, at the end of the long and winding gravel driveway. He hadn’t remembered the terrain being so steep, but he was a kid at the time and not exactly paying attention to those sorts of things. After all, he was under a bit of duress back then. Shaking his head to rid it of the memories that were already creeping back into his brain, he walked around the car, inspecting it for any dings that were caused by it being pelted with rocks.
Of course, he was a wealthy man. One of the wealthiest in the world, most likely. So he didn’t exactly have to worry about such things. But old habits die hard, and money was a newer par
t of his life. Not only hadn’t he grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth, he regularly went without food at all. For days sometimes. He shook his head again and grumbled,
“Let it go,” he said to himself as he looked up at the big, log building. It was more rustic than he’d thought it would be, but what could one expect when it was called The Retreat. It definitely wasn’t the Ritz.
He walked toward the steep front steps and stared up at it. His bank contact had told him this woman wasn’t going to be happy about his presence. But, from the sounds of it, she didn’t have much choice in the matter. People who didn’t pay their bills on time shouldn’t get a say so, in his opinion. Money was money. Emotions couldn’t get involved.
He knocked on the door and waited, but no one came. After a few moments, he hesitantly opened it. This was the South, and guns were commonplace. The last thing he wanted was a big gunshot hole in his new Italian suit.
The place looked empty, even though there were cars in the driveway. He called out, but no one answered.
“Hello?” he called again as he made his way to the back of the building. Still no answer. Just as he was about to give up and go call his contact, he heard a faint voice. He followed the sound. It was a woman’s voice, likely the owner. Realizing she was on the other side of a door, he stopped short, waiting for her to come out.
“I know, Nina. But this is my home. My business. You know how much I love this place and the people I get to help.”
He couldn’t help but overhear her. But Patrick Scott didn’t do emotions. They were a sign of weakness, and he was anything but weak. In the business world, weakness got you smashed under another person’s expensive leather dress shoes.
He cleared his throat loudly.
“I think someone’s here. I’ll call you back,” she said, hurriedly. Moments later, the door swung open and they were face to face.
She was wearing yoga pants and a tight fitting gray t-shirt. But when his eyes met hers, he struggled to keep it together. Those eyes. He could never forget them.
Her face searched his for a moment. “Can I help you?”
She didn’t remember him. Of course, he was a kid back then. Shaggy hair covered half his face. He was skinnier. Scrawny. Not toned and muscular like he was now. And his hair had darkened over the years.
“I’m Patrick Scott. I think the bank told you I was coming?”
Her face fell. There was puffiness beneath her eyes, obviously from extensive periods of crying. And then he noticed those pouty lips that he’d kissed all those years ago. He tried not to think about it.
“Oh. Yes. Well, you’ll excuse me if I don’t welcome you, Mr. Scott. I’m not exactly thrilled to have you here,” she said as she walked past him.
Shocked, he turned and followed her. She was fast for such a petite woman.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re trying to steal my business right out from under me!” she said, whirling around and almost tripping him in the process.
He sighed. “Look, this is business. You can’t be emotional about it.”
Her eyebrows furrowed together tightly. “You’re kidding me, right?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
“No, I’m not.”
“Wow. You must be fun to live with,” she said, turning and walking again. Where was she going?
He followed behind her. “I don’t actually live with anyone.”
She stopped again. He had to quit following her so closely because that time almost resulted in a collision.
“Surprise, surprise. A man with no emotion definitely shouldn’t have a wife or girlfriend. She’d be miserable.”
The comment hit him harder than he wanted to admit. This woman was tough. How she’d gotten herself into this financial mess was a mystery to him. And he wasn’t going to care. He had to separate that one small memory from his adolescence with what was happening now.
She turned and started walking again. “Where are you going?”
“I have a business to run, Mr. Scott.”
He walked behind her until she stopped at a coffee station on wheels. She messed with the little machine as if it was a ritual, putting teacups and saucers out on a table. She had a variety of tea bags, an electric tea kettle and some kind of little cookie things he couldn’t identify.
“What are those?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
She turned and rolled her eyes. “They are date cookies with raw almonds and cinnamon.”
“Yuck,” he said under his breath.
She smiled slightly. “Not a healthy eater?”
“I’m not a granola crunching vegan, if that’s what you mean. But I eat a salad here and there.”
“Try one.” She held the cookie out on a small napkin.
“No.”
“Try one.”
“No.”
“Mr. Scott, you might actually steal this place away from me. The least you could do is try one of my very popular cookies.”
“Cookies have chocolate chips. Not dates.”
“Try it.”
He sighed. “Fine.” He took the round, dark thing and popped it into his mouth.
“Well?”
“It’s not awful.”
She laughed. “I’ll consider that high praise coming from you.”
Feeling that her shell might be cracking a little, Patrick spoke. “Look, Jill…”
“How did you know my name?”
He froze for the first time in years. Crap. She couldn’t know who he was. It would only complicate things and make her think there was hope to save her place.
“I, um, saw it on your business card. When I walked through here. On that table over there.” He pointed across the room, hoping that the cards he saw were actually hers and not some date supplier or guru friend.
She looked at the table and then back at him. “Oh.”
“As I was saying… I don’t want this to be stressful for you. I’m sure it’s difficult to come to terms with losing your business. It happens to a lot of people…”
“Stop,” she said, holding up her hand. “First off, I have no intention of losing my business. Secondly, that rehearsed little story of yours might come off as more believable if you had any inkling of emotion on your face while you said it.”
“Excuse me?”
She walked closer to him, making him completely uncomfortable in the process. Not many people had that affect on him.
“You’re detached, Mr. Scott,” she said softly, looking up at him. Those eyes really were something. He stiffened and jutted out his chin.
“You don’t know me.”
“Oh, I know you very well.”
“What?” Now his hands were getting sweaty. She recognized him?
“I know your type. All stiff and business-like. No wife. No girlfriend. All work and no play. You know what happens to people like that?”
He cleared his throat. “What?”
“They die young.” She stepped back and crossed her arms.
“Okay, look, I’m not here to get psychoanalyzed by a yoga teacher.”
“Yoga teacher? Is that what you think I am?” She put her hands on her hips again, causing him to look down and notice her body. She was petite, but she still had curves in all the right places.
“Well, in that you do teach yoga here…”
She chuckled. “Yes, I do teach yoga. But there’s a lot more that happens here at The Retreat, Mr. Scott.”
“Please call me Patrick.”
“Okay, Patrick… we don’t just teach yoga classes here. This place changes lives.”
“Whatever. I’m here to assess this property and all that is currently on it. I need to start making plans on what to salvage, what to tear down…”
“Tear down? Are you serious? This building isn’t even four years old!”
“Progress sometimes requires tearing things down, Jill.”
“Miss Russell.”
Patrick smiled. “Fine. M
iss Russell.”
“This is exhausting. What do you want from me?”
“Well, first, it’d be nice if you could show me around this building and any other buildings you have. There’s a possibility we could make use of them in our conference center project, even if they just become storage areas.”
“Storage? Dear God.”
“I know this is hard…”
“Please,” she said, holding up her hand again. “No more rehearsed speeches. Just know this; I won’t go down without a fight. This place is in my blood. I’ve poured everything I have into it, and I love it like it’s my child. So please don’t mistake my kindness of showing you around as weakness. I don’t intend to go anywhere.”
Her eyes pierced right through him. A part of him wanted to reach out, touch her cheek, see if her skin still felt the same. As much as he hated to admit it, no one else in his life had ever made such an impact after such a brief encounter. He’d never forgotten her. He’d wondered about her for years, often worrying that she didn’t keep her promise.
“Noted,” he said, thoughts whirling around in his head.
“Let’s get started. I want to get this over with.”
Chapter 3
This guy got under her skin, no doubt about it. And she wasn’t even totally sure why. From the moment she’d seen him, he’d irritated her in a different sort of way. All the inner peace knowledge she had went straight out the window, and she found herself wanting to simultaneously smack him across the face and kiss him.
But she was going to keep her composure no matter what. Now was not the time to let her hormones draw her closer to the wrong guy. He was here for one thing - to close the deal. To get what he wanted.
She hated to be so cynical. That was a side of herself she tried to push down when it popped up. It served no good purpose and only caused bad karma to come at her with the force of a freight train.
“So this is the best place to start, I guess,” she said as they stood in the foyer. “Obviously, this is where guests enter. We have them sign their name in this book and then ring the bell.”